Rising Star
by Shinobu
Summary: In an alternate Bebop universe of the future, Spike and his new partner run across an old comrade.


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Author's note: The following story is set in an alternate future of the _Cowboy Bebop_ universe. 

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Rising Star

by Shinobu

Benjee Harper was a big man in town. He had a penthouse apartment in an exclusive building, the best clothes money could buy; the best liquor and women money could buy too. He was someone important- he even had bodyguards. Yes, life was good for Benjee Harper. Sure, this wasn't the big time, like Mars or Europa, but it was fine to be a big fish in a small pond. And in this particular pond, almost all the local cops were on the take. He had nothing to worry about.

As Harper and his pair of protectors (a.k.a. hired thugs) entered the lobby of his fashionable high-rise apartment building, there was a commotion. A young lady had dropped a bag of groceries. Containers of this and that littered the entrance area in front of the elevators. 

Benjee had an eye for the ladies, and his eye was now squarely on the derrière of the girl who had just had the misfortune with her shopping. She was in a tight fitting red skirt bending over to collect her dropped items, not kneeling, bending over from the waist. From what he could see, the rest of her looked just as inviting as the part that faced him. White blouse, red gloves- sexy touch. She was a redhead- he _loved_ redheads. He and his bodyguards gawked for a moment before she stood up and faced them with a most exasperated look on her face.

"Boys, boys," Harper spoke to his goons. "Let's help the lovely lady," he said trying hard to make eye contact with the beauty. She returned his gaze and smiled. 

"Why, thank you very much. I'm so clumsy sometimes," she replied with a small laugh.

Harper's men had just about finished gathering up all the cans and containers. As one of them handed a nearly full bag back to the woman, he swayed and dropped to the floor. The girl let out a little startled squeal. The other hood started to say something, then he too wavered and dropped.

Benjee Harper's face turned white, then red. "What the hell is goin' on here?" he snarled, and started to reach his hand inside his coat.

"Catch," yelled the redhead as a small round container flew toward Harper. The man instinctively caught it and glowered. "You little bitch, what's the big idea? What did you do to them?" he said, indicating his floor hugging cohorts.

The girl grinned. "A chemical on the containers. Goes right through the skin into the blood system. Puts anyone touching the stuff to sleep real quick." She raised a gloved hand and waved. "Nighty-night."

A rather dumb look crossed the gangster's face as he started to fall backwards, into the waiting arms of Spike Spiegel. 

The girl raced across the lobby and took Harper by the feet as Spike had him under the arms. "Don't touch his hands," she reminded her partner. "Wouldn't do for you to pass out too."

"I will unless I get something to eat soon. Are you sure we have to leave the groceries?" he said as they carried the limp body to the car parked in front of the building. 

*** *** ***

Benjee Harper awoke feeling like he had been trampled by a herd of wild elephants. As he started to get up to try and shake it off, he discovered he was tied to a chair. The chair was in a small cubicle set off from a larger room, an unfamiliar place to Benjee.

"Here, take a sip. It should help," said a young girl as she held a cup of something to his lips. He remembered now. She was the redhead, the redhead in the...

"Where the hell am I? Who do you two punks think you are? Do you know who I am?" he demanded. Spike took a seat near their prisoner and folded his arms.

"Well, in order of questions asked: your aboard a ship, we're bounty hunters, and you're Benjee Harper, a man with a 35,000 woolong reward on his head."

"Cowboys?" Harper became quiet. "On a ship? Where are you taking me? Why don't you just turn me in to the local police?"

Spike lit up a smoke. "Because the cops in your town are way too corrupt for our taste. If we turn you in here, they'll claim our reward and you'll be set free. So, we're going to take you over to Taswell. It's just a few miles away, but light years in terms of police efficiency. The ISSP there will take you off our hands."

Harper started to sweat, figuratively and literally. "Taswell? ISSP?" he swallowed hard. "Naw. Say, don't do that. 35,000? Look, look. Let me go, and I'll make sure you get 40,000 woolongs. Honest- what do ya say?"

Spike puffed on his cigarette and looked away at nothing in particular. The red haired girl went to the other side of the room and sat herself down on the floor. A small dog entered the room, a Scottish Terrier, sniffed at the guest, and laid down near his mistress.

"Okay, okay. 50,000. How about 50,000? 60,000? Hey, at least talk to me. We can't strike a bargain if you don't talk to me. Look, I'm not even the guy who's really running things anyway- I'm just the front guy. When the ISSP find that out, I bet they lower the reward anyway."

"They don't lower rewards. A reward is a reward," the young woman said off-handedly.

"But it's not even me you want. It's Mora."

"Mora?" asked Spike nonchalantly. 

"Yea, yea. Daisuke Mora. You go see Daisuke. He'll pay to get me back. We're like best friends, like brothers. I promise, he'll pay."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up if I were you," Spike said pointing a remote control device at the prisoner. A door closed in front of Harper and for a while they could faintly hear his protestations on the other side of it.

"He'd probably pay just to shut the guy up. Let him yammer to himself for a bit," Spike said, turning back to his partner, Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV. "Find anything on this guy Mora?"

Edward sat spread-legged on the floor at her computer as her fingers raced over the console. "This guy is Mr. Upright Citizen. Legitimate businessman, civic leader, even directs several charities. He..." Biting off what she was about to say, she sat quiet for a few moments.

"He what?" asked Spike.

"It's her," Ed said, almost in a whisper. "Spike, come here and look at this."

Spike ambled over to the computer screen and squatted down for a look. "Mr. and Ms. Daisuke Mora attend a charity banquet to raise money for..."

"No, no! Not the article. The picture, the picture. Check out _Ms. Mora_." Ed pointed at the monitor as she spat out the last two words contemptuously.

"Well, well," Spike said slowly, trying to gather himself and consider how to handle this sudden turn of events. "Her hair's blonde, but it's definitely her."

Ed bounced up off the floor and started for the hallway. Spike yelled for her to stop, and she pivoted to face him, hands on hips.

"Ed, let it go. It's been seven years," he said as he rose from his crouched position. 

"Let it go? Spike, that's the last thing I'd expect to hear coming from you. Let it go? Well, maybe you can, but I can't," she said in a voice that was both sorrowful and resolute, turning to continue down the corridor.

"I figure it will take about two hours for me to deliver our friend Mr. Harper to the ISSP and get back here," he said to her back. She halted again, but this time did not turn to face him. "I'll wait another hour after that. If you're not back in three hours, the Bebop and I are leaving."

"You do what you have to do," she said, her back still to him. "If I'm not back in three hours, leave. And Zwei is yours." Ed resumed her journey down the passageway. Spike knew exactly where she was headed- the weapons locker, then to the Hammerhead.

Zwei looked up at the mention of his name and gave a bark. "Thanks," said Spike as her looked at the pooch. "Critters and women."

*** *** ***

The wife of Daisuke Mora got out of her car and walked up the front steps of the large mansion she called her home. It was, more precisely, her husband's home. He owned everything; the house, the grounds, her. As she closed the front door behind her, she leaned back against it for a moment. The beautiful thirty-one year old shut her eyes and breathed a deep sigh, then crossed the foyer and entered the library, her favorite room. It was her sanctuary, a safe haven against the conspiracies of life, and her life had see more than its share.

As she closed the door, she noticed that the window tinting had been activated. The room was abnormally dark, even for her taste. She was about to order the house computer to lighten the room, when a strangely familiar voice spoke. "Computer, lock the door." 

She heard then click of the door behind her. "Who's there? Do I know you?" were the only things the surprised woman could think to say. As soon as she spoke them, she thought to herself how lame the words must have sounded. 

"Move to the center of the room and keep your hands where I can see them," the voice ordered. 

As she complied with the demand, a red-haired girl holding a pistol at arm's length emerged from the shadows of a corner. The gun was aimed straight at the older woman, who tried to hide a small gasp. Her surprise was not for the sight of a gun, but its owner.

"Edward, is it you? What are you doing here? Is Spike with you?"

The redhead said nothing. Her eyes spoke volumes. Determination, resentment, anger.

"Well, getting past my husband's guards was not small feat," said Faye Valentine Mora. "Where'd you learn to do something like that?"

"Computer, increase room lighting forty percent," Ed commanded before responding. "Spike taught me."

"Spike. Yes. He taught you well. He would."

"Spike's showed me there's more to life than just computers. Now I like guns and violence too." 

The steely look in Edward's eyes showed Faye it was no jest. "Glad you've broadened your horizons. Can we sit down?"

The casual question seemed to agitate the young girl. As her body stiffened, her face flushed and she tightened her grip on the weapon. "Why did you kill Jett?" she blurted out.

Faye's face turned ashen. "What? I didn't kill Jett. Where the hell'd you get an insane idea like that?" As soon as it came out of her mouth, Faye realized it probably wasn't a good idea to accuse the person pointing a gun at you of having insane ideas.

"You left him!," Ed said in almost an adolescent whine. "Seven years ago, it was you who was suppose to provide him with back up. He went into that warehouse to get the bounty, and you were supposed to cover his back. But you left! If you had been there, he wouldn't have gotten killed, damn you!" She paused and inhaled. "He was like a father to me, and you let him get killed. How could you, Faye? How could you?"

Faye looked at Ed and, despite instructions, collapsed into the nearest chair. "That's not the way it happened at all. You weren't there. That is NOT the way it happened."

Ed screwed up her resolve. "It had to be. When Spike discovered his body, you were no where to be found. You didn't come back to the ship. For years, I thought maybe they'd killed you to, but here you are. Proof in the flesh that that's not what happened. Spike knew. He wouldn't talk about it, but he knew. You ran out on us because you ran out on Jett. He had to face those thugs alone, and they got him because you weren't doing your job!" The young woman was almost screaming now. Ed stopped to compose herself. She was suppose to be the cool, calm avenger, not some hysterical kid.

"Look, Edward. I know that's the way it may seem, but that's not what happened. Actually, if I had run out, maybe Jett..." her voice trailed off. "Well, maybe Jett would be alive today." She started to reach into the handbag she had not yet put down, and Ed growled at her. "Cigarette?" Faye asked.

"Slowly and carefully. I _am_ going to kill you, but first I want to hear your side."

"How generous," Faye said as she withdrew a smoke and lit it. One of these days her smartass mouth is going to get her killed, she thought as she began her story. Before she could speak, there was a knock at the door. Ed froze, gun still aimed at Faye. 

"Ms. Mora, you okay in there?" an older woman's voice spoke from the other side of the door.

"Yes Junko, everything's fine," Faye replied. "Please don't concern yourself further."

Faye drew a long breath of smoke. "Junko, my maid. She's alright. You're lucky it wasn't one of the goons my husband has guarding this place. I'm tellin' you kid, you don't know the danger you're in."

Edward tried to be cool. "You don't either Faye. Unless you give me a real good reason not to kill you, you're going to be dead within the next five minutes."

The buxom blonde drew another hit on the smoke and began. "Despite what you may think, I _was_ with Jett that night, doing exactly what I was supposed to. Something happened though, someone made a sound, I don't know. Anyway, the bounty and his men spotted us. One of them drew his weapon and fired- at me." Faye hesitated, pretending to need another puff of her cigarette, but Ed could sense her genuine distress. For the first time since her prey entered the room, Ed lowered the gun just a bit.

"Jett, well, he... God, he was always such a fool. He jumped in front of me and took the shots. I knew as soon as he did it, he was dead." Her face was dry, but there were tears in her voice. Maybe she had no more real tears to give, Ed thought.

"Couldn't you get out?" the redhead asked.

"Maybe. Maybe I could've. I don't know. I just dropped my gun and sat there beside him. I couldn't leave him. Idiot! Wasting his life to save me of all people!" She paused for a moment. Ed started to say something, but did not. "Anyway, the bounty and his goons took me with them, back to their boss."

"Daisuke Mora."

"Daisuke Mora," Faye spat out the words as if they were contaminated. "I thought he was going to rape me, then kill me. For a long time though, he didn't touch me. He was actually nice to me, considering the circumstances."

"Nice to you! He killed Jett, Faye!" Ed said in a screaming whisper.

"No he didn't. One of his men did- without orders, but Daisuke didn't. In a way, I was more responsible for Jett's death than anyone!," Faye responded adamantly. There was a pause as both women tried to keep themselves under control.

"I couldn't leave, he had guards watching me. As time went on, he visited me. I think he fell in love with me. He treated me nice. He gave me a nice place to live, nice clothes, jewelry..."

"You were his whore," Ed said.

Faye looked into space for a moment. "I was his whore," she finally answered. "But then he asked me to marry him. I thought he loved me. It, well, seemed like a good idea at the time," she smiled feebly. 

Ed made a noise of disgust. "How could you marry him?"

"Because I'm a survivor!" Now Faye went on the offensive. "You know computers. You're naturally good at them. Well, I know survival. It's what I do best. My debtors were still hunting me. Jett was dead. After a few months, I had no idea how to even start looking for you and Spike. But I survived!

"And I survived well, for a while. Things actually were okay the first several years. The last few have been another thing. He's- he's changed." Faye stared down at her right hand, then raised it. "Daisuke used to get excited at giving me roses. Now he gets excited at using me as a human ashtray." Ed gazed at the burn marks on the back of Faye's hand. "Guess the honeymoon's over."

Edward had come to this house to kill. She still wanted to, but maybe not Faye Valentine. In the last few minutes, the hatred she felt toward this woman had been washed away by pity. Pity at her selfishness, pity at her weakness, pity at the abuse she suffered. 

"Faye," Ed said in a hushed voice, "come back with me to the Bebop. Come back with Spike and me." 

She smiled and put out her cigarette, blowing one last whiff of smoke through her nose. "No. You can never go home kid. Nobody knows that better than I do."

Faye stood up and gazed out the window. "You need to go. The longer you stay here, the more chance of you getting caught. I already got one comrade killed, I don't want any harm to come to you." She took out her cigarette case and fumbled with the bottom of it, opening a hidden compartment. "Before you go, take this," passing something to the girl.

Radical Edward didn't even have to glance to her hand- she knew by its feel. "A data chip?"

Faye smiled. "Consider it a souvenir."

Ed shyly grinned. "What's on it?"

"Enough information to put my loving husband's criminal organization out of business and, hopefully, place him in a penal colony for the rest of his miserable life. I've been waiting for a chance like this. You're someone who can slip this into the ISSP computers anonymously. This data will give them enough evidence to do the job without anyone knowing where it came from."

"What about you?"

"When all this shit hits the fan, the last thing Daisuke's going to worry about is me. I can use the chaos of the moment to slip away safely. Everyone will just think I ran away because I didn't want to get caught up in things. Don't worry about me- I'm a survivor. That is, unless you still intend on killing me."

*** *** ***

Spike entered the cargo bay to find Edward tending her Bonsai trees.

"Well, what do you think?" the girl said as she lovingly snipped here and there, handling the trees as though they were delicate crystal.

Spike plopped down on a cargo container next to where Zwei was taking a nap. His disturbance caused the small terrier to rise, reposition himself, and resume his station on the floor.

"I think the Mora syndicate is pretty much dead. The ISSP have nabbed most of the characters on the chip, and they caught Mora himself trying to sneak off the planet about an hour ago," Spike responded, looking down at Zwei and thinking it might be a good time to take a nap himself. "No mention of Mora's wife though."

"There won't be," replied Edward, placing her tongue between her lips as she made a particularly important surgical cut. Putting her patient and tools on the floor, she turned to face her partner. "Do you think Faye was telling me the truth about everything?"

"Well from what you've said, it all makes sense. The data on the chip she gave you makes me feel that she was probably being square with you, but then again, I wasn't there. What do you think?"

Ed pondered a second or two. "I think she was telling the truth. I hope she was. Spike, it's so hard sometimes. All I had to go on was my instincts."

"That's all there is to go on sometimes. In this business, you learn to trust your gut feeling." He hesitated, then asked, "Are you glad you went there."

"Yes, but sad too. I still miss Jett. And Faye too. In a way, two people died in that warehouse seven years ago."

The two sat for a while, with only the hum of the Bebop engines as their companion. Finally, Spike got to his feet. "Well, speaking of gut feelings, mine is getting hungry right now. Want something to eat?"

Ed popped up quickly and raced to the doorway. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm cooking tonight!"

"Really," Spike said suspiciously. After Jett's demise, Spike had taken over most of the cooking duties, and found to his surprise that he actually had a flare for it. "If you're cooking, what's on the menu?"

"Beef with bell peppers," chirped Radical Edward in a voice that reminded Spike of her as a youngster. "It's- well, it's an old family recipe," she beamed. 

Ed clapped her hands together. "C'mon Zwei! C'mon boy, you want to help me go cook? Let's go cook dinner Zwei!"

Girl and dog ran down the passageway toward the galley, and Spike could hear the sound of innocence he feared had been lost.


End file.
